*    *    *    *    *    *

A month later, they all decided that something was terribly wrong. Spike had been the one to confront them. Said it was "ridiculous" that things had gone on this long without having done a thing to locate her. It was unlike Buffy not to say a thing, abandon her little sis, not even to tell them how she was doing or where she was or why she was gone. Time for action.

Willow had refused to do the locating spell, due to her recovery from the magicks addiction. But Tara was still able to perform spells, though Willow instructed her every step of the way. Now spreading a
map before them, Tara chanted the incantation and observed as a small blue light flickered in the midwest. Looked to be around Chicago.

Spike had offered—no, insisted—that he go and retrieve the Slayer. Xander, of course, objected vehemently. However Spike, being the only one of the group that didn't work or have school to attend, ended up being the only choice they had. He left as soon as the sun had set, promising to be back within 2 weeks. They all wondered if the clattering DeSoto would hold up under those conditions.

One week had passed when he'd finally arrived in the bustling town of Chicago. No matter how long he'd been gone, it still looked the same and the traffic was still as annoying as ever. At least spring had not yet come, so the days were short enough for him to cover some decent ground.

Luckily, word had not gotten out about his demon fighting in this neck of the woods, so his resources were very forthcoming. Art district. A petite girl with blonde hair kicking demon's asses as far as the eye could see. Incredibly strong.

Remembering a line of stores near an old theater called the Pickwick, he figured that would be a great place to start. When he began to describe the girl to people, they all immediately knew who he was speaking of. However, when he'd mentioned her name, none of them had a clue who "Buffy" was, but they all knew a gal named "Anne". He chuckled to himself when he'd heard that she was using her middle name for her alternate identity—not exactly original, but he had to admire her ingenuity.

Sunrise was only an hour or so away, he could feel it. Guess I should work fast. Thought this would have taken longer. Slayer's getting sloppy, tsk tsk…

The sign to the Starbuck's coffee shop turned from "closed" to "open" and he waited a minute or two before stepping inside. Surprisingly this time of morning was quite busy and he had to wait several minutes before reaching the front counter.

An ultra cheerful gal greeted him with her caffienated smile, "Good morning sir! Welcome to Starbucks, how may I help you this morning."

"I'm looking for this girl," he showed her the picture, " It's an emergency. Is she here today?"

"Anne? Um, no I don't believe she comes in until later this afternoon. But I can let her know you stopped by."

With a frustrated sigh, he continued, "I really need to find her before then. As I said, it's an emergency. Can you tell me where I can find her?"

"Sorry sir," she frowned a bit, "But I can't give out any personal information on her. But I can give her a call at home if you'd rather wait here."

If she let the Slayer know he was looking for her, and Buffy had really wanted to disappear, he figured making her aware of his presence wouldn't help much. "No, never mind. I'll just…never mind."

With that, he walked out the door and back to his DeSoto that was parked across the street. He was so exhausted from his journey, that he decided to sprawl out on the backseat and take a much needed nap.

His dreams were filled with her. He could practically hear her heart beating. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Then he realized as he woke with a jerk that someone was tapping on the glass of his automobile. Cracking the window just enough so as not to scorch himself, but to give him a clear view of his daytime intruder, he recognized her immediately.

"So, what was so damned important that you'd risk becoming ashes?" the annoyed voice demanded.

"Good to see you too Slayer."

*   *   *   *   *   *

How long had he known she was here? She'd been here for over a month now. Assuming that nobody was going to question her whereabouts, she'd begun to relax considerably. That was until today. Her bubbly co-worker informed her that `some hot blonde guy' was looking for her…and wanting to know if they were involved…and if they weren't, could she hook them up.

A twinge of jealousy had tightened her throat at that last part. Hooking up the father of her unborn child with her annoying co-worker? Not bloody likely.

Now she stood mere inches away from him, only spray painted glass separated them. She smiled as he unlocked the door and then scooted to the far end of the seat so as not to be burned by the afternoon sunshine.

He gave her a scrutinizing look as she flopped down on the seat beside him. Noticing he was swallowing with some difficulty as she gave him a friendly hug.

"You smell better than you used to. Coffee scent suits you much better than the swill at the Palace."

Grinning at his feeble attempt at humor, she graciously joked back, "Tell me about it. It's pretty bad when the vamps tell you they can't stand YOUR odor!"

He laughed, but seemed to choke on it as sobs began to surface. She was willing to bet he thought she hadn't noticed. But she had. He tried to play it off saying that his bloody cigs may have the same ill effects on vampires as well as humans, then tried to force a fake cough or two.

No, she wasn't buying it. "Wanna tell me what brought you all the way out to Chicago in broad daylight? Tracy said it was an emergency?"

He muttered, "Willow said you had left. Didn't know why or where you were. They worried. I left. `Nuff said."

"So there wasn't really an emergency, was there?"

"Not exactly. Coulda been. Never know Slayer, we DO live on the hellmouth after all."

"Well, now you know. And I'm late for work. So I'm going. Tell everyone I'm fine."

"Not coming back?"

"No." she answered, not looking him in the eye.

"Wanna tell a fella why?"

"No."

"Fine. Best be on your way then. Good to see you, luv." That was it? THAT was it??? After driving thousands of miles across
the country, THAT was all he was going to say?

Her hormones were at full tilt. With a swift motion, her hand slapped across his face. "I can't believe you! `Good to see you, luv'…are you serious?"

"What the bleeding hell do you WANT me to say, Buffy?" he was at a loss for words.  "Want me to beg and grovel for you to come back with me? Is THAT what you want? Cuz let me tell you something SLAYER, I'm not some little puppy dog that follows you making `moon eyes' all bloody day long! Say what you mean or get the hell out of here cuz I'm damned tired of your self-pity party!"

Oh god, she was going to cry. Bottom lip quivering. Tears welling up at the edge of her eyes. Barely contained sobs yearning to break free. And then she let loose. A full body cry. He'd seen her upset before, but nothing like this. Should he hug her? Stroke her hair? Tell her that everything was going to be fine?  Instead of trying to figure it out, he instinctively did all of the above.

Surprisingly she curled snugly into his chest, soaking his T-shirt with her never-ending trail of tears. God, how he hated to see her hurt like this and had to wonder exactly what it was that could make a girl feel so hopeless to bring her to this point.

He could hear her heart beating wildly—too wildly from the sound of it-- as he made every effort to soothe her. Something was off, he could sense it, but what? Her scent was doubly powerful, perhaps it explained her mood a bit. Yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right in Buffyville. Every time he tried to ask her what was wrong, it would bring on a fresh flood of tears. Instead of torturing the girl needlessly, he just held her and gave her as much time as she needed.

"Are you going to be alright, luv?" He pulled her closer, if it were possible, and kissed her on the forehead. Reaching inside his coat pocket, he grabbed a handkerchief and dabbed her eyes.

A few sniffles later she managed to force out, "I'll live."

Spike wasn't so sure. Her heart was still beating out of control, almost seeming to overlap with one another. "Do you want me to call your job and tell them you won't be in today?"

"I need the money, Spike"

"I have money, pet."

With a wary eye, she responded, "I'm sure you do and I won't be needing YOUR money."

YOUR money, she says. Like it's tainted with poison or some such. What the hell was wrong with `his' money? He'd earned it just like the rest of America—with hard work! Ok, he earned it selling the kittens he won at poker, but that hardly seemed to be a crime.

Insisting further he replied, "Just for today, luv. You can go back tomorrow when you're better. I don't fancy seeing you making yourself sick. Please?"

Did he just say `please'? And did he just invoke the nancy-boy spirit?

*   *   *   *   *   *   *

Did he just say please? She watched his _expression turn to one of genuine concern. Surely she must look horrible for him to use politeness in her presence. The thought of having to face her co-workers with red-rimmed eyes DID sound quite unappealing. What would one day hurt?

A barely audible "Fine" escaped her lips and Spike drove to a shady alley to call from the payphone.

He pumped the quarters in the phone and heard that annoyingly cheerful bint on the other end, "Good afternoon, Starbucks. May I help you?"

*   *   *   *    *    *   *

The girl's voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard, but somehow he managed to speak civilly to her, "Hello, yes, this is Buffy's friend William. She is not feeling well at the moment and will not be able to  make it in today."

He heard the snort coming from Buffy when he'd used his human name. One look from him told her that it was best not to piss off the person who was getting her out of that dreaded shop for an entire day. He could tell she was interested in the conversation when things went on a lot longer than expected.

The girl inquired further and Spike attempted to keep his answers as short as possible, so as not to give away the fact that the Slayer was playing hooky. Then unexpectedly she had passed the phone to Buffy's manager.

"Hello, Mr. uh…"

"William."

"William, oh yes. Um, I just needed to know if Buffy will be able to make it to work for tomorrow. You know, in case I need to call someone to cover her shift."

"Um, it doesn't appear to be serious. I think she'll be fine tomorrow."

"She's got the nausea again, doesn't she? That's to be expected in her condition. Just tell her to eat some saltines and drink some ginger ale and that should help. Tell her we'll see her tomorrow! Bye!"

He hung up the phone without a word and looked at Buffy.

"What condition?"

How could she answer that without giving away anything? It was a longshot, but she decided to play dumb for as long as she
could. "What do you mean `what condition'?"

"You know damned well what I'm talking about!" His patience was wearing thin and it was wicked obvious.

"I—I've been…sick." he started to talk, but she continued, "It's nothing serious or anything, just nausea and vomiting, but it's
supposed to clear up in a month or two."

Ok. Give that a  moment to sink in. He's a vampire, he's not going to put two and two together. At least she hoped he didn't.

"Slayer, that isn't normal and you know it. There's something you're not telling me."

"It's none of your business Spike," If you can't beat `em—piss `em off.

Yep, he was pissed. He didn't blink. Didn't respond. Just clenched his jaw over and over again. And gripped the steering wheel so hard she was sure he'd tear it off.

Finally, he managed to utter in a low growl, "Fine. I'll take you home. Where to?"

Two blocks later, they were there. Of course her job needed to be close to home. She couldn't drive, nor could she afford public transportation, so she'd decided to hoof it. At least it would help her get a head start in working off some of the baby weight she'd be sure to gain. Not that it mattered how she would look after the baby had stretched her firm belly to it's limit.

She wasn't expecting that he'd want to accompany her inside, but before she could even invite him, he'd thrown the duster over his head and ran inside. When they reached the third floor, she let him in and quickly went to the bathroom to retrieve some ointment and gauze to bandage up his slightly singed fingers.

Nearly an hour had passed in strained silence before Buffy couldn't take it anymore.

"Would you like something to drink. I mean, I don't have blood or anything. I've got cola or some milk."

His cold indifferent voice snapped back, "Don't need anything. I'll live."

Sighing with frustration, she poured herself a glass of milk. "Fine. Whatever."

"So?"

"What?"

"Gonna tell me what your big dark secret is Slayer, or am I going to have to beat it out of someone?"

"Nothing to tell."

"Right then. I bet with the right tone of voice and maybe a little kiss, that gal at the coffee shop would tell me."

Now he wasn't playing fair. She knew he'd do it too if it meant that he'd get the information he was searching for. And she also remembered how sexy he could be when he wanted to persuade a young female. Remembered all too well.

"Fine. I'll tell you." His smile returned as he realized he'd won. "But not now. I just need to explain it the right way."

His smile faded as quickly as it had returned. "Slayer, I don't have time for your silly little games."

A flirtatious smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "If you play along, you won't be sorry you waited." And with a wink, she headed to her room.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

His eyebrow arched with curiosity and he uttered a string of curses. If the Slayer was giving him those kinds of looks, maybe it WOULD be worth the wait.

Thirty minutes later, she came out wearing a slim-fitting cream colored turtleneck and hip hugging black jeans. He nearly screamed with desire as he caught a glimpse of her navel. Apparently Lil Spike took notice as well, as his pants were becoming unbearably tight.

An oversized duffel bag was slung over her shoulder. She seemed quite relieved when he'd lightened her burden by taking the bag from her, then flung it into his trunk.

"Where are we going, pet?" he asked as he chauffeured her through suburbia.

"I'll tell you when we get there. Besides, we have to wait until the sun is fully set. Which should be soon."

"The sun already set, luv."

"Oh. Well, who can see out of these stupid spray painted things anyway?" she said teasingly.

A few minutes later they had arrived. It was a small playground park. Various trees and bushes lined the fence. A swing, see-saw and a slide were near the picnic area that she led him to.
 

*   *    *    *    *    *

A tiny glimpse of the future played in Buffy's mind. A little girl. Or boy. She and Spike pushing them on the swing. Delighted giggles filling the night air.

Then cold harsh reality woke her up. Well, the cold hard bench did anyway. That was one thing she wasn't going to get used to any time soon. The snow had subsided for the most part, but the biting cold hadn't unleashed it's grip yet. Spike seemed oddly unaffected by the temperature. Sometimes she envied that.

Spike seemed to pick up on the Slayer's shivering and chivalrously shed his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"Thanks." she smiled.

No smile in return. Not a good sign.

"So. You gonna keep brushing me off Slayer,  or are you going to tell me what's going on with you?"

*   *   *   *   *   *  *

Without a word, she rose and unzipped the duffel bag. She pulled out a pink and blue blanket.

"Seems kind of small for a picnic blanket, but I'm sure it'll do in a pinch, eh?"

Her answer was a frown. She reached back into the duffel bag and pulled out an oversized shirt and set it before him. Looking at him with hopeful eyes, she waited for his reaction.

"Not exactly my size, luv."

This time a small `hmmpf' escaped her as she reached in the bag again for the tiny pink and blue striped booties, then set them before him.

"Again, have to say they aren't my size. Trying to tell me you need a new laundry boy?"

"Good Lord, Spike! Do I HAVE to spell it out for you???" she replied angrily.

It was obvious from the blank stare she met with that he truly had no clue what she was talking about.

Frustrated, she reached behind his head and pulled him to her. His lips parted in anticipation. Something he never imagined he'd ever have the chance to do again.

Until she shoved his head down to her stomach. Ok, that's something new, even for an experienced vampire such as myself. He leaned in to kiss her flat tummy when she turned his head ever-so-slightly and his ear settled on the flesh of her bare midriff.

Her heart was beating wildly. Overlapping as it had before. Something was VERY wrong with this picture. Then it hit him like a ton of bricks—Buffy had a heart condition!

"How long do you have?" he questioned her, tears glistening in his eyes.

"Eight months. Give or take." she replied with a smile.

"Oh my…I'm so…oh god…" he was struck speechless. His Slayer was going to leave him—again—and this time there was nothing he could do about it. It broke his heart to watch the brave face she put on amidst all of the worry she must be enduring.

"Isn't it wonderful?"

"Wonderful? What's so wonderful about that? How could you think that?" Sure, maybe heaven had been great for HER, but it was certainly no picnic for him.

*    *    *    *    *    *    *

"You know what, Spike. I thought you would have been the happiest of anyone. If YOU'RE reacting like this, then maybe it WAS a good thing I left town."

This was just too much for her. Of all people, she'd thought for sure Spike would be the happiest about this situation. And now here he was treating her like she had the black plague! Tears spilled down her cheeks as the emotions and raging hormones took over.

Then she felt his arms wrapping tightly around her, but it was little comfort after his stinging words.

"I'm sorry, luv. Whatever happens, we'll get through it together. I want to be by your side until the end." he purred in her ear, kissing her tears away.

"Do you promise?" she asked, eyes shining with hope.

"I do."

Spike wasn't sure what to make of the oversized shirt, the tiny slippers and the blanket, but overall it seemed to have a
convalescing theme.  With that, he fully intended to make the Slayer's last days the happiest and worry-free ones she'd ever had.

Eight months. Just wasn't enough time. How could the Powers That Be give a girl like her the amazing gift of being a Slayer—the best that ever lived—and just throw her life away with something as  mundane as a heart condition? It just didn't make any sense at all to him. The more he tried to figure it out, the worse he felt.

What was even harder to figure was Buffy's indifference toward the entire mess. Hell, she was welcoming it! He'd heard heaven was this wonderful place, but still…she'd have to suffer and die. Didn't that mean anything to her? Or was she in such deep denial that it would all come crashing around her one day? If so, she was going to need someone strong to help her through, and he was more than prepared to be there to savor these last moments. Of all of her friends and family, a lowly, soulless vampire was going to be there—mourning her…again.
 

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *
 

Willow began to worry as three full weeks went by with no word from Spike. However, just as she was deciding to do a locating spell for the absent vampire, the phone rang.

Buffy was ok. Mostly. She wasn't coming back and couldn't—for her own reasons. It was for Dawn's good that she not come back. No, he wasn't going to explain what was wrong, that she was going to have to respect the Slayer's wishes on this one. And he'd come back in approximately one year and everything would be explained.

She hated doing this to Dawn, but figured whatever Buffy had going on, she'd be back in a year and things could get back to normal.  <<Yeah Dawn, Buffy's taken off on you for a year and won't tell you why. Oh, you want to celebrate?>> Nope, that wasn't going to happen.

Dawn arrived home from school and Willow explained to her the situation. Upset? Well, the slamming door of her bedroom and the loud wailing was a clue. But when she'd finally calmed down, Willow reminded her it would only be a year and not to get too upset. That it was probably something that had to do with saving the world and that was a big job.  Dawn had begrudgingly accepted that theory and things had been strained but going quite well since then.
 

*    *    *    *    *    *    *
 

Three months later and things were wonderful. Scratch that—BEYOND wonderful. Spike had insisted that she quit her job and that he would take care of her. And take care of her he had! She had barely lifted a finger since that night when he offered to stay with her—to the end.

Her clothes were always laundered, he hardly even complained when she'd just left the dirty clothing scattered on the floor. Every morning she'd awoken to the smell of some delicious concoction—be it eggs, pancakes or waffles…not to mention the cinnamon French Toast. Delivered on a tray, right to her bed…usually with a handpicked flower or a cute little love poem. Yep, she could DEFINITELY get used
to this.

He'd all but offered to sponge bathe her, which seemed like a delicious idea as far as she was concerned, but wasn't going to push it. After letting him go as she had, it was probably best not to push anything sexual between the two of them. However, it was becoming increasingly diffucult to do so. Most touches had remained quite innocent. The hugs, hands on shoulders, tiny kisses on her forehead every night before she fell asleep, and occasionally she'd manage to con him into cuddling with her when she had trouble with insomnia.

Insomnia nights were the best as far as she was concerned. He'd wrap his arms around her shoulder, she'd tuck her head just under his chin. Some nights they'd just sit in comfortable silence, other nights he'd read her a story or poem, and when he was in an especially good mood he'd even sing to her an old English tune…probably from his human days. It was difficult however not to be swept away by his enchanting voice and muscular arms that wrapped her tightly. Sometimes she just wanted to look up at him and kiss away all of the pain and hurt that masked his face. But she couldn't bring
herself to do that.




Continued...